Deli Queen

2004-06-12 at 12:36 a.m.

I am a super deli queen goddess extrodinare. After a nary 3 hours of training, I can tell you in great detail about the seven, count 'em, SEVEN, kinds of potato salad you can get at my Deli. I can shave roast beef. (this means cutting it to a thinness that makes it terribly useless.) I am ahead! I've got most of my training down! In two days. The place I'm working at it really behind. They haven't found me a shirt yet (uniform, hmmm) Or even a hat.

I really was looking forward to the hat.

I can make sandwiches and salads and. Well, nothing else yet. I will be an expert in something I never thought I'd know. Breaking chicken thighs. As my coworker explained to me, You have to break the thighs otherwise the part between the bones doesn't cook and the customer is UNHAPPY. So far I have not broken a chicken thigh. I did, however, have a small reenactment of the blood spurting on the wall from Pyscho when I opened a new bag of Roast Beef. I was really glad no one saw that, because I open the bag, tip it in the trashcan, and GUSH there is blood all on the wall, the floor, my apron and pants and hands. Roast beef is rather raw and bloody.

Also, I am at a job where there is ZERO chance I'll have to clean the bathroom. Ever since the diaherra cleaning episode I have been afraid to go into public bathrooms. In fact, if there is anyone in the bathroom at the bookstore, I cannot even stand to wash my hands; let alone do any business.

Oh, and yes, I passed my drug test.

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